


This Is Not A Story

by arctickchild



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: misleading summary is misleading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:36:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arctickchild/pseuds/arctickchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>that has a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Not A Story

Right now, Derek thinks, this is what he has.

He can hear the sheriff in his bedroom, sighing as he flips through files. Probably still looking for Gerard; he can hear him muttering the old hunter’s name under his breath every few minutes, can smell the gunpowder and wolfsbane that’s clung to Chris Argent like a second skin since his father showed up.

Downstairs he can hear Scott making sandwiches; he claims he’s staying the night, and although the thought sets Derek’s nerves on edge he can’t exactly stop him from staying at his best friend’s house, however tense things are between the two of them. He can smell the ham he’s using, way too strong to still be edible, but he doesn’t really see the point in alerting Scott to this fact. He’ll find out soon enough, anyway.

He can – not feel, exactly, but he knows that Isaac is okay, back at the basement with Peter. Well, he’s alive and uninjured, at least. He isn’t crying for help. Alpha senses are good for knowing when his pack needs him, but not much else. At least, not yet. Maybe one day he’ll be able to tell more. But not yet.

He looks for the strings that used to tie him to Erica and Boyd, but there’s… nothing. They aren’t damaged, aren’t weak, they’re just _gone_. He doesn’t know what that means, and Peter wasn’t Alpha long or successfully enough to help him. He hopes they’re okay. They could have found their pack. Of course, they probably found the Alphas, and are dead. Either way, he can’t help them now.

The thought hurts more than it should. He pushes it down, lets it rest with the memories of his family. Two more names to add to the list of those he’s failed.

It’s not as long as it could be. But it’s longer than it should be.

Stiles shifts against his chest, and Derek strokes his back absently. “Are you doing your Alpha thing again?” he complains.

“No,” Derek says, and stares at the ceiling. Stiles scoffs, nuzzling his cheek against Derek’s chest. This isn’t something he’s used to, the cuddling and the warmth and the – the affection. But it’s something he might be able to get used to.

“Well stop it,” Stiles orders. “You’re too old to be up all night moping like a teenager.”

Derek makes a small noise in the back of his throat, which could either have been acceptance or dismissal. He can’t be sure, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah,” he agrees, and leans down to kiss Stiles’ hair. He can practically _taste_ his worry – for his father, for Scott, for _Derek_. He doesn’t need to feel the tension in his shoulders or hear his heart to know he’s scared. “Go to sleep, Stiles. We’re fine.”

Stiles sighs, and his free hand searches for Derek’s. Derek lets him take it, intertwining their fingers on the bed against his stomach.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

Derek kisses him again, closing his eyes, and focuses on what he can sense. There, in the master bedroom, the sheriff has closed his files and is getting into bed; downstairs, Scott is eating his spoiled-ham sandwich, and Derek takes a moment to appreciate the noises he makes as he discovers the rotten meat.

Through their ties he can tell that Isaac is alive and healthy and relatively safe, and for the moment, at least, he decides to trust that Peter won’t betray him tonight, because, hell, why not. Peter may be a psychopath, but he’s been a relatively reliable one so far.

“We have pie, you know,” Stiles murmurs sleepily. “And if you stop thinking and go to sleep, I’ll make sure Scott saves you a piece.”

And Derek smiles, because he has Stiles lying there, half on top of him, on just the right side of too warm, holding him down. Secure, for the most part. Anchored. And maybe it isn’t much, compared to some people. But this is what he has.

He lets the tension ease from his shoulders, and lets himself believe, for a moment, that he’ll be enough to keep them all safe.


End file.
